


Storm winds

by Gilli_ann



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Marriage, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 06:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10634007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilli_ann/pseuds/Gilli_ann
Summary: Alma doesn't understand her husband's mood during the storm raging across Riverton.





	

**Author's Note:**

> They belong to Annie Proulx and Focus Features. I intend no copyright infringement and make no profit.

There were eddies of dust and gravel, followed by stinging hail driving across the parking lot. Wind in furious gusts, drawing breath in moments of treacherous quiet before renewing its vigorous attempts to vanquish and flatten anything in its way. Anything that refused to take to the air in an exhilarating rush, to let go, to leave everything behind and fly carelessly free for a moment - only to be battered, smashed and torn apart, bits and pieces scattered like so much useless flotsam. 

Some loose boards outside the window were making a loud banging noise, no rule to the sound, the crazy-quilt rhythm disconcerting and unnerving in its random pattern. The furious calls of the wind, its hollow moaning and wailing shrieks alike, might well belong to an uneasy spirit, a ghost from the past, tossing in the storm’s crazy embrace outside, bucking up into the air, and crashing back down. Perhaps the pale shape whirling past in the gloom was merely an empty paper bag on its way to nowhere, but it was gone too soon to tell. 

_Gone. Too soon..._

Junior was scared, but she thought it was a little exciting too. Before it got too dark to see much, she stood for a long while, nose pressed against the living-room window, her thin arms hugging herself. She watched the dust and debris whirl and kick-dance outside, shreds and pieces moving around, flying through the air, disappearing into the gloom, lost from sight. 

_Lost from sight..._

Alma walked back and forth through the room, back and forth with bundled-up baby Jenny in her arms. Whispering snatches of lullabies, she rocked her little one softly. Alma feared another asthma attack might be setting in. Jenny was uneasy, the frantic energy in the air making her twist and whimper and sometimes gasp for air. 

_Gasp for air..._

She knew well enough by now that her husband had an almost unreasonable dislike for this kind of weather. Sudden storms made his jaw clench and his eyes turn to the window with a fury that could have equalled the wind’s own, had he not managed to keep such a deadly-tight rein upon it. He prowled through the flat restlessly, short-tempered, and taciturn. There was a slightly accusatory and bitter hint of a frown visible when the lamp-light hit his face just so. 

His heavy mood weighed on Alma just like the force of the wind pushed against the house. It nudged at her uncomprehending heart and mind the way wind pressure rocked the truck outside in its tracks. 

In truth, Alma was bone tired, the bleakness of it all filling her with sadness and worry. The storm outside was stealing into the flat through cracks around the windows, snatching air and heat, leaving pockets of cold emptiness behind. This troubled night sure enough could discourage the peace of calm minds and the steady beat of quiet, contented hearts. Alma shuddered, shook her mind free of such fancy, and continued rocking her daughter. 

The girls and their mother went to bed early. Junior didn’t put up any fuss. Jenny had finally calmed down enough to fall asleep, breathing evenly. The invisible force outside was still howling its hopeless lament. 

Wyoming born and bred, Alma was used to strong winds. But so was Ennis. No, she didn’t understand him on nights like these. In fact, she herself secretly liked sudden storms. At any rate, she’d had a soft spot for them ever since that storm in the summer of -63 brought Ennis home one month early. She had been planning the wedding, their life together, talking with her sister long into the night sometimes. She'd been so excited, longing for him to come back and prove that it was all for true and real and ever. And an unexpected mountain storm had granted her wish. No, she really couldn’t say storms were all bad, - not after that. 

Alma let Ennis be, and didn’t speak except to softly wish him good night, her voice hardly a match for the wailing outside. 

She left him to his tense vigil, a lonely guard pacing slowly along the fragile border between quiet respectable order and dangerous, uncharted turmoil.


End file.
